You can’t understand consumerism until you understand that, in its most potent state, consumerism is a religion that relies on Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. Consumers mistake eye-catching representations of ideal beauty, happiness, success, and perfection for the ideals themselves. They pursue these commercial shadows, believing that acquiring them will bring them closer to an absolute state of fulfillment.
What this means is that in late August of 2018, I did not buy a Honda Accord 2.0 Sport. I bought a Honda Serenity. I bought the car because it had handsome features, a reasonable price, and, most importantly, represented coziness and peace of mind. Roomy, vanilla bland, and reliable, the Accord represented Serenity. That was the automotive absolute I wanted, far more than adrenaline, muscle-flexing, or status-seeking.
My absolute shattered eight years later when reports emerged in the fall of 2026 that three major Honda engines were susceptible to overheating and blown head gaskets, resulting in repairs costing several thousand dollars. I did not buy the worst of the three engines, the 1.5-liter turbo. However, my 2.0-liter turbo was reportedly susceptible to the problem, significantly diminishing my confidence that my Honda would reach 250,000 miles without major repairs. In other words, I no longer owned a Honda Serenity. I owned a Honda Anxiety. Had I bought the 1.5-liter version, I would have been stuck with the Honda Anxiety Deluxe.
To Honda’s credit, the company extended warranties to 150,000 miles on certain 1.5-liter turbo engines and naturally aspirated four-cylinder engines paired with electric motors in hybrid models. I don’t get an extended warranty with my 2.0-liter, but I have the consolation that my engine apparently didn’t carry enough risk to qualify for one.
In contrast to my 2018 Honda Anxiety, my wife has a 2014 Honda Serenity, an Accord with a naturally aspirated four-cylinder engine that is legendary for going well over 250,000 miles without major problems. With my wife’s 2014 Accord going to our daughters, who are close to getting their driver’s licenses, and my wife happy to take my 2018 Accord, which I have not told her I have renamed the Anxiety, I am in the market for a new car.
I’ve set my sights on the Accord’s major competitor, the Toyota Camry. Returning to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, I know I am not really buying a Camry. I’m buying a Certainty XLE. At least that’s what I’m hoping for. Toyota’s long track record of making reliable hybrid powertrains gives the Camry its appeal. Do I really believe in this reliability in an absolute sense? No. Everything is relative. Therefore, relatively speaking, the Toyota Camry comes closer to being the Certainty XLE than any other model I can think of.
Is it dangerous to live inside Plato’s Allegory of the Consumer’s Cave? I’m sure it is. For one, we can suffer from unrealistic expectations. Also, many products are more illusion than substance. However, that is not true of all consumer goods.
I have a Yamaha upright piano, which I love. I have always found Yamaha pianos, both uprights and grands, to produce the Sweet Sound of Heavenly Angels. My ebony piano represents such bliss, and it delivers. I enjoy my Yamaha so much that if I ever had a bigger house to accommodate a grand piano, Yamaha would be my choice. In this case, the substance and the absolute are one and the same.
Meanwhile, I’m locked in on the Certainty XLE. I’ve read that the LE, with its smaller tires, will give me even better gas mileage at a lower price. But those 16-inch wheels somehow make the Certainty less fun to own. I can aspire to optimization without denying myself some emotional reward. I am not an absolutist, after all.
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